Over
by Shire Lass
Summary: Bilbo and Thorin have a talk the night before they reach the Lonely Mountain. MILD HINTS AT SLASH. This fic sucks, I know, but I'd still like reviews, so please do! ;)


TITLE: Over  
AUTHOR: Shire Lass  
RATING: G  
PAIRING: hints Bilbo/Thorin  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Wish I did, but I don't.  
SUMMARY: Bilbo and Thorin have a talk the night before they reach the Lonely Mountain.  
NOTES: This fic sucks, I know, but I'd still like reviews, so please do! ;)  
  
  
  
Bilbo Baggins huddled mournfully with his back against a fallen log, gazing into the small fire with a bleak expression on his features. The thirteen dwarves that slept nearby did not see the worry so acutely etched on his face, nor could they hear the shuddering sighs he was breathing out into the night air.  
  
Tomorrow they would reach it. The Lonely Mountain.  
  
It had seemed like much longer than half a year since he left his comfortable Bag End behind in Hobbiton. With all that had happened to them since, it was starting to feel more like a lifetime. He would try hard to remember every little detail of his beautiful hobbit hole, every nook and cranny, but even those details were beginning to fade like an old dream from his mind's eye.  
  
Well, I suppose that doesn't matter much now, does it Mr. Bilbo Baggins, the Hobbit thought with another long, dejected sigh. You're probably not going to live much longer anyway, with the Dragon still to take care of. And we've brought no heroes or dragon slayers with us. Why in the duece didn't Thorin think about this sooner??  
  
His gaze then strayed to the very dwarf himself as he slumbered. He was the closest to Bilbo, facing him with a slight smile on his lips. Probably dreaming about his silly treasure, no doubt, he thought with a snort. I simply do not understand people's fixation on gold and jewels. The only good money has ever done me is give me the means for buying better mathoms for my friends on my birthday, or allowing me to buy whatever food I could wish for.  
  
"Why am I even on this journey?" Bilbo muttered out loud. "I have no use for dragon treasures. I made a big mistake coming.. I should have stayed home."  
  
"Well, I for one am glad you DID decide to come, Mr. Baggins."  
  
Bilbo blinked out of his thoughts with a start and looked down next to him to see Thorin Oakensheild peeking at him through one eye. Bilbo felt his face grow warm with a flustered blush and he averted his grey blue eyes to gaze into the fire once more. The last thing he wanted was to see that smirk on the dwarf's face.  
  
Thorin chuckled low in his throat and sat up stiffly, strenching his arms and yawning wide. "Why, if it had not been for you, my fine burglar, we probably would not have gotten as far as we have."  
  
Bilbo sniffed. "You can say that now, when we're most likely not going to survive a day past next week."  
  
Thorin shifted his sturdy body into a more comfortable position next to the Hobbit and gazed with him into the fire. "You mean the Dragon?"  
  
"What else?"  
  
Thorin nodded and stroked his beard. "Well, I'm sure we'll figure out some way to deal with him by the time we get there."  
  
"We meaning me, I except," Bilbo scoffed.  
  
Thorin raised a thick eyebrow at him. "Are you always this grouchy?"  
  
"Only since I met you people."  
  
This caused the dwarf to grumble rather irritabley. He wasn't used to being so openly snapped at. Most everyone he had ever met had treated him with the respect deserving of the grandson of King Under the Mountain. He was royal blood for Durin's sake. In fact, the Hobbit was the first person aside from a Goblin to have ever given him so much as a glare. But then, he supposed he should not have been surprised. There were no such thing as kings or rulers in the Shire, and Bilbo had been the richest gentlehobbit in his town, grandson of one of the most famous hobbits in Shire lore.  
  
In a way, Thorin and Bilbo were simular creatures.  
  
This thought drained away most of the dwarf's annoyance and he risked a scoot closer to the Baggins. Bilbo raised a questioning eyebrow at the leader of the company and Thorin offered a rather surprisingly gentle smile. Bilbo turned away swiftly, appearently finding the campfire of greater interest.  
  
"You should sleep, Thorin. I still have an hour of watch yet before I have to wake up Balin."  
  
Thorin sighed. "We.. certainly ask a lot of you, don't we, Burglar?"  
  
Bilbo turned his eyes to stare into Thorin's, grey blue clashing with emerald green. "Somewhat. And please use my name, Thorin. My mother didn't name me "Burglar"."  
  
Thorin blinked in slight surprise. "Oh. Very well, Mr. Baggins."  
  
"Bilbo, Thorin," Bilbo had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "We've known each other for several months now. You can just call me Bilbo."  
  
Thorin nodded. "All right, Bilbo."  
  
They sat in a thick silence for several long minutes, both unsure of what to say next. The Hobbit felt he would have very much liked to have run over to the other side of the fire, putting a decent distance between himself and the dwarf, but he knew he couldn't because it may insult his friend. Friend? Yes, he considered Thorin a friend, he realized, though the other male probably only saw him as an employee for the trip.  
  
He was startled out of his thoughts as he felt Thorin suddenly lay a heavy hand on his shoulder, squeezing it as if he were trying to offer some comfort. His gaze flew to meet the dwarf's once more, and he was sincerity on his face.  
  
"When this is over," Thorin said at length, "when that worm Smaug is killed and my kingdom is regained, I'll find a way to make it up to you." His eyes flared instensely. "On my honour, Bilbo, I will make it up to you."  
  
Bilbo was thrown into a state of utter confusion when older male pulled him into a hearty embrace, patting him on the back. Why in Middle-earth was old Thorin acting so kind all of a sudden? The only times he had ever really offered him a kind word was when he was either thanking him for saving his life, or that he wanted something from him.  
  
Doubt flared in Bilbo's heart, but he could do nothing but nod and accept the gesture breifly before pulling away. Somehow the autmosphere was becoming most uncomfortable for the Hobbit and he shifted in his place, glaring at his lap and refusing to look anywhere else.  
  
Thorin somehow sensed his unease and sighed, feeling with his arm still wraped about the smaller male's shoulders as he pulled himself into an even tighter ball under his blanket. All bundled up in it, he looked like a mound of cloth with only a head sticking out of the top. The cold of autaum was obviously having an effect on the Hobbit.  
  
Bilbo closed his eyes and shivered. How he wished he were inside in his own home rather stuck out here at the foot of some mountain. Even if they DID find the secret door on the side of it, what then? Kill Smaug in his sleep? Die trying? And if they did manage to be rid of the Dragon, what then? Winter was coming on and there would be little to no food left to feed thirteen hungry dwarves and one hobbit. He was suddenly sure that he indeed would never see his snug smail again, that he would certainly die out here with all these dwarves.  
  
All in vain, he thought miserably. Fools. Can't they see? All of the effort has been in vain. It's all over.  
  
The Hobbit didn't realize until he heard a sudden sharp intake of breath from Thorin next to him that his eyes had begun to mist over with unshed tears. He silently cursed at himself and hastily wiped his eyes of the unwelcomed moisture.  
  
"Bilbo.."  
  
"Nevermind, Thorin," he murmered, hugging himself under his blanket. "I am all right. Try to get some sleep while you may. We have a long march ahead of us in the morning." The dwarf said nothing more but simply lay back down upon his side facing Bilbo and allowed the quiet of the night to settle over the camp.  
  
The hour passed by and Bilbo woke Balin for his watch before laying his own troubled, weary head of curl down upon the ground, buried deep within his blankets as if they might protect him from his fears of tomorrow.  
  
But Thorin never slept, and his eyes were ever fixed on the Hobbit's back.  
  
  
-----  
  
Shire Lass  
  
Guardian of Mistress Mary's garden. 


End file.
